


why can't you see I'm a kid

by Mr_Phich



Series: everyone needs a chance to be small [20]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Acceptance, Bathing/Washing, Clint Needs a Hug, Complicated Relationships, Daddy!Steve, Diapers, Gen, Hurtful Reactions, M/M, Missions Gone Wrong, Misunderstandings, Non-Sexual Age Play, Panic Attacks, Wetting, little!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 13:26:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8892439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Phich/pseuds/Mr_Phich
Summary: Clint didn't want Natasha to know. (But he's glad she found out.)





	

_ “Why can't you see I'm a kid', said the kid. _

_ Why try to make me like you? _

_ Why are you hurt when I don't cuddle? _

_ Why do you sigh when I splash through a puddle? _

_ Why do you scream when I do what I did? _

_ I’m a kid.”  _

 

A knock on the door woke Phil in the middle of the night. Usually, that might be cause for a little annoyance but not panic. But Phil was in deep cover for a mission and nobody but Natasha and Clint should know where he was, and they both knew better than to make contact. Phil flung the covers off, grabbed his gun from the bedside table and walked on silent feet over to the door. He peered through the peephole. 

Natasha was on the other side, stony eyed and steel faced. She absolutely would not be there unless she felt like there was no other choice. He opened the door and she slid in. Phil scanned the hall for unwelcome eyes. They’d chosen this tiny hostel in Bulgaria for it’s total lack of security, so he didn’t have to worry about cameras. But the people who frequented this type of establishment were likely to keep strange hours so despite knowing Natasha would have been careful not to be seen, Phil scanned the hallway before closing the doorway. 

Natasha had dropped the calm facade. She was angry. Phil blinked and quirked an eyebrow at her. 

“I don’t care what he does at home, Phil. I don’t. But that can’t come  _ here _ .”

Phil was officially confused. “What can’t come here?”

“The game,” Natasha hissed. Phil raised his other eyebrow. What on earth was she talking about? “Clint,” she spat, “wet the bed. I don’t care if that’s part of whatever,” she flapped her hand, “he does with Steve. If it makes him feel littler or whatever. But he can’t do that here.”

Phil’s stomach sank to his knees. He cursed silently. It wasn’t the first time Clint’d had a slip up on a mission, of course. Missions were stressful by nature and for Clint that sometimes meant a wet bed. But it had never happened when Clint and Natasha were posing as a couple and therefore sharing a bed.  _ Shit.  _

“Oh no,” Phil whispered. He tried to pull himself together. He still wasn’t the best at dealing with this stuff, but he was the best Clint was going to get right then and he would just have to be good enough. “Stay here,” he ordered Natasha. He didn’t bother to change, though did grab his ankle holster and hid his gun under his pajamas, before slipping out into the hallway. Clint and Natasha’s door was unlocked and he made sure to lock it behind him. The quilt on the bed was pushed off, revealing a large damp spot. The bedside table on Clint’s usual side was knocked over - he’d probably scrambled out of bed in a panic. The bathroom door was closed firmly and there was water running. Phil let himself in. 

Clint was pressed into the corner of a dingy and filthy shower, still fully clothed, and soaked to the bone. He’d curled up into a tight ball, forehead to knees, and didn’t look up when Phil came in. 

“Clint? Clint we’ll - we’ll figure it out, okay?” Phil fumbled over the words.He felt helpless in the face of Clint’s misery and embarrassment, didn’t know what to say or do. 

“I want Steve,” Clint sobbed. Phil hurt hearing it - not in the way he once would have, but because he couldn’t give Clint what he needed. They were on radio silence and it could compromise the whole mission to call Steve. Phil inched closer, reached over Clint and turned the water off. He slid into the shower. It was a tight squeeze. Phil sat down, their knees pressed together so hard it almost hurt. Everywhere he touched got wet with the water still draining out of the shower. He didn’t care. 

“We can’t, Clint, I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Clint whispered, muffled by his knees. “But I - I need.” Clint broke off. His breath hitched. Phil’s heart ached in time with Clint’s suppressed sobs. 

“It’ll be okay,” Phil said, though he didn’t know that it would be. “We’ll figure out what to say to Natasha and we’ll get through the mission and Steve will be there when we get back, okay?” 

Clint peeked up, face wet with tears and the shower, lashes clumped together. He looked impossibly young. He wasn’t little, Phil could tell, but he was fighting it hard. Given the situation, Phil couldn’t exactly blame him for wanting it. Clint shook his head. 

Stuttering, a red blush hot on his cheeks, he muttered, “m’too stressed. It’s - I’m not gonna be - s’gonna happen again Phil.” Phil felt an answering blush rise on his cheeks. This wasn’t his job. At home, this was up to Clint and Steve to handle and deal with. Every once in a great while Clint misjudged his stress levels and Phil got wet, but otherwise Phil didn’t need to know anything about it. (That didn’t mean he didn’t know some - Clint went and slept in the spare room when he was stressed and, since Bucky got back, didn’t usually have laundry to wash which meant that Clint was probably wearing some form of protection on those nights, but it really wasn’t any of Phil’s business and he didn’t pry.) Phil didn’t feel the need for any of this to change, he really didn’t. 

But they were on a mission and Phil was the handler, not to mention Clint’s partner, and there was no handing this off to Steve. Phil took a deep breath. 

“Oh. Okay, okay. Well. We can’t change the cover story, but we don’t really think anyone is watching us -” Clint swallowed, stared guiltily down at his knees. Because, well, there was a good chance someone might start watching them, and even if they didn’t, they had to keep acting like they would. Phil swallowed too, throat tight and dry with nerves. “What about, uhm, protection? Natasha doesn’t need to know, okay? I can - I can try and find you something.”

Clint tried to quiet a sob, which broke, turning into a tiny, heartbreaking whimper. He nodded and hid his face again. So quietly Phil could barely hear, Clint started talking again, “But - I. Uh. Sometimes when I’m really stressed, like, really really, I don’t - I need - I. Not just at night.”

It took a minute for it to click. Phil had seen Clint -  _ have issues _ , as it were, all of three times during the day. That one time, shortly after Phil had gotten back. Once when Clint had a broken ankle (Phil didn’t count that one). And once during the weeks from hell when Steve was searching for Bucky. Stress had been a huge contributor for all three incidents.

“Oh.” Phil managed to say. This was not something they ever talked about. It wasn’t something Phil knew anything about. This was a boundary they didn’t cross in their relationship. But again, it didn’t seem like there was any other choice. 

“I don’t know if -” Clint muttered. “I might be fine. But - Natasha. The mission. I don’t wanna wreck it.”

“It’s - it’s okay, Clint. I’ll - uhm. I’ll get you enough for the day too, okay? Just a couple more days on this mission, anyway. It will be fine.”

*

It was not fine. 

Nothing exploded (that wasn’t supposed to). Natasha (as always) managed to charm everyone that needed charming. They found the crooks (who were using the conflict in Syria as a cover for a booming human trafficking ring) and gathered the intel so a bigger team could go in and round them up.

But Natasha and Clint were once again stilted and awkward, an alarming dissonance between them. Natasha was obviously still aggravated with Clint (she thought he did it on purpose, thought that he’d been unprofessional, thought that he’d risked the entire mission and Phil didn’t really know how to correct any of those assumptions without revealing way too much.)  Clint was just as obviously stressed, body stiff, twitchy, barely eating, focus all over the place. All of which just increased Natasha’s frustration. 

And Phil felt completely unequipped for dealing with any of it. Which he now realized was highly problematic. He couldn’t rely on Steve to always be around to handle things like this when they came up. If Clint was going to need help to navigate this part of his life then Phil had to be able to do it. That was the kind of partner he wanted to be, he decided, watching Clint sleep. They were headed back stateside in an army plane. Clint was seated on one of the narrow benches, using a rolled up sweater as a pillow and appeared to be sleeping soundly. Natasha was going through paperwork for him - as Steve’s second in command she had taken on a lot of duties while Steve was busy with Bucky. She would send him the pertinent details and file the longer mission report accordingly. Phil watched her for a moment. There hadn’t been any combat this mission, but she held herself stiffly anyway, like she was hurting. That was often the case after human trafficking related missions. And this one had little girls, frightened and far away from home. Phil got up and edged along the bench, mindful of the turbulence, to sit beside her. 

“Tasha,” He said softly, “I can’t tell you everything - but what happened with Clint.” She sneered a little, which made him a little defensive. It wasn’t Clint’s fault. He maybe should have said something to Phil about his stress levels, but that was the only thing he’d done wrong. “It wasn’t -” He tried to figure out what he wanted to say, what he could say without revealing things Clint wouldn’t want revealed. “It wasn’t to do with his ageplaying, all right? I need you to know that.” 

She blinked and Phil could already see her brain working, coming to conclusions he would rather avoid but couldn’t help but face. “Was he injured?” Natasha asked. She glanced over at Clint, eyes already softening. She had no patience for mistakes or stupid decisions. But if there was a reason she judged acceptable for something happening, she could forgive in an instant. (They’d trained her emotional responses away, the Red Room, left her to cold, hard logic. Sometimes it served her. Mostly it didn’t.)

“Something like that,” Phil answered. 

“Oh.”

*

Steve was waiting on the helipad for Clint, pacing nervously. Phil had gotten in touch a couple hours ago, when they’d landed in D.C.. He hadn’t said much - just a quick text;  _ rough mission. Clint issues. Be on standby.  _

Clint issues could mean any number of things, though they usually used it as a sort of code for anything that related to Clint’s side-effects from Loki. Steve had already been nervous about this mission - it was Clint’s first with Natasha since she had found out about him being little. And while she seemed accepting, the knowledge was sure to change the dynamic in the field. Steve knew that Clint had been stressed about it too, and that was never a good thing. He heard the helicopter before he saw it and he backed into a safer location, scanning the sky. It came into view and Steve could make out Natasha beside the pilot as they came to a landing. As soon as they’d come safely down, Clint was leaping out of the helicopter and dashing for Steve. 

Not a good sign, Steve’s brain registered, even as he opened his arms and steadied himself for Clint’s hug. Clint was crying almost as soon as Steve’s arms came up around him.  _ Shit.  _ He gathered Clint up into his arms, looking up, eyes narrowed in concern. He needed to talk to Phil ASAP. Phil was just getting out, leaving Natasha to exchange a few words with the pilot. It was hard for any conversation to take place over the sound of the helicopter and Phil gestured them into the comm deck of Avengers HQ. 

“What happened?” Steve demanded, hefting Clint into his arms easily. Clint whimpered and a fresh wave of tears hit Steve’s neck. 

Phil glanced back at Natasha, who was gathering bags off the helicopter. 

“Clint wet the bed when he was sharing with Natasha,” Phil said in his soft, frank voice. Steve’s stomach tied into knots.  _ Oh god.  _ Clint must have been absolutely distraught. Steve’s arms tightened around his boy even as Clint started to cry a little louder. “He was worried about the stress so I got him some protection.” Phil was matter of fact about it, a sign of how far the three of them had come. 

“He, uh, insisted on wearing it during the day as well,” Phil shared with just a tinge of pink on his cheekbones. “I don’t know if any more incidents occurred. But his food intake was way down and he was pretty tense.” 

Steve pursed his lips and nodded tightly. His poor, poor boy. Clint became upset at even the idea that one of his teammates might find out about his issues with his continence and was horrified at the thought that Phil might, one day, judge it too much to put up with. The situation must have been really bad for him to ask for help from Phil like that. 

“I -” Phil paused a minute before straightening his spine and continuing on. “I think that Clint and I need better communication around these issues. Do you think you could assist us with that?” Clint whimpered and shifted in Steve’s arms. 

They really had come so far, Steve thought. They would have never been able to do this before without hurt feelings or misunderstandings or ruffled feathers. 

“Of course. Not now - once Clint’s feeling a little calmer.” 

“Of course.” Phil nodded. 

Steve turned to leave, planning to take his boy home and get him into a bath and then fed and in bed. He paused to ask, “Mission status.”

“Complete and successful.” Steve nodded sharply and headed to the elevator. Once the doors had closed, giving them a little privacy, he turned his attention to Clint. 

“Oh baby. My poor lovebug. You had such a hard trip didn’t you?” 

Clint whined, squirmed just enough to get his thumb in his mouth, and settled more heavily into Steve’s body. 

“We’re gonna havta talk about it later, baby, okay? But right now let’s just get you home to your brother.”

“Daddy, m’wet and I want my blankie and rainbow pizza and avacado fries and lots of cuddles and a bath an’ I want my own pull ups and my astronaut pajamas and I never ever wanna be big ever again.”

“Oh, buddy. I think we can do most of those things. But I think you’ll probably want to be big again sometime. It’s okay that you don’t want to be big right now. You be just as little as you want, okay? You don’t have to worry about big things right now.”

Clint let out a little weepy sigh as the elevator doors opened. Steve pushed open the door, ears perked for Bucky and Thor. They were sitting in the living room, Bucky curled up into Thor’s lap as Thor read aloud. Bucky looked up when the door opened and brightened. He sort of toppled out of Thor’s lap and hurried over to Clint and Steve. 

“Clint’s home!” Bucky said, big grin on his face. Steve smiled back. 

“He sure is, bud. He’s feeling a little sad right now, though.” Bucky’s grin fell and he pressed in closer, body wobbling dangerously. Steve steadied him quickly. 

“M’sorry Clinty. Daddy’ll make it all better!” Bucky said confidently. Steve smiled fondly. At least one of his boys was having a good day. Clint made a muffled little noise which could have been  _ Daddy  _ or  _ Bucky _ . It was hard to tell. 

“Bucky can you tell Thor goodbye? And thank you?” Bucky did as told, even giving Thor a little hug. Thor left after telling Steve to call if he needed anything. Steve thanked him but was grateful when the door closed behind Thor. Bucky did really well with Thor these days - especially after his sleepover with him. Clint had basically no experience with Thor being around when he was little, especially when he was feeling so vulnerable and upset already. Steve needed space and privacy to take care of his boy right then. 

“Let’s get Clint changed into some comfy clothes, hmm?” Steve said to his boys, heading for the bedroom. Clint had to be coaxed into letting go to lie on the bed, so Bucky clambered up next to him. Bucky gathered Clint’s blankie and his dolls and a pacifier before laying down next to his brother. Clint took his blankie gratefully and pressed a sloppy kiss on Bucky’s cheek. Steve’s whole body seemed to light up with the sight. He really loved his boys. 

“Lovebug, do you want a bath?” Steve asked as he pulled Clint’s shirt off. 

“Uhuh. With Bucky please?” Bucky looked up with wide pleading eyes and Steve chuckled to himself. As if he could say no to such a request. 

“Of course, baby.” Steve pulled down Clint’s pants, revealing a cheap looking pull up. Steve quickly got rid of it.  Clint was looking a little rashy - he had a tendency for them - and Steve made a mental note to put cream on after the bath. He gathered Clint and Bucky into his arms and made his way to the bathroom. He put them down beside each other on the counter while he started the water. Then he returned to help Bucky out of his clothes before getting the boys into the water. 

Steve sometimes thought that there must be some kind of drug in the bathwater. Two minutes in and Bucky and Clint were giggling to each other. They’d set up a network of boats which were carting rubber duckies around the tub. Bucky was playing the sea monster, roaring and growling playfully in his quiet little voice and splashing Clint and Steve with enthusiasm. 

Clint gathered up his armies of rubber ducks and lined them up to protect the villagers (Clint’s toes) from the sea monster. But it turned out that actually it was a friendly sea monster, he just didn’t know how to ask to play so the duckies had to teach him. 

Steve was pretty goddamn proud of his boys and he maybe teared up a little, watching them play the game. They tooks breaks for hair washing without complaint and by the time Steve coaxed them out of the tub and into big, warm towels, they were both lazy and content. 

“My good boys,” Steve praised as he carried them into the bedroom. He lay them down on the bed next to each other, returning blankets and dolls and pacifiers to their respective owners. Steve found Clint’s astronaut pjs. It wasn’t exactly the season for them, but JARVIS would keep them the right temperature anyway. He found a pair for Bucky too - pink with white polka dots, a pair that Bucky had picked out for himself shortly after deciding to be little. 

Clint had asked for his pull ups, but Steve’s plan for the afternoon included a quick lunch and a long nap, so he changed his boys into diapers instead. Bucky whined a little about it, which was rare. Clint didn’t whine at all, which Steve found very telling. His poor boy was probably feeling particularly insecure. 

Clint refused to leave Steve’s arms during their quick lunch of tomato soup, staying curled up in his lap and having Steve feed him. Clint was littler than Steve had seen him in a good long while and it worried Steve a little, seeing his boy so rattled. After lunch, Steve lay down in bed with his boys and read a couple of Clint’s favorite books. Bucky nodded off quickly, as was typical after a morning with Thor. 

On the other hand, Clint was fighting sleep for all he was worth. Steve pulled him into his lap, cuddling him close, and waited. 

“Daddy,” Clint finally whispered. “It was a really bad week.”

“Can you tell me about it?” Steve requested softly. Clint tucked his head under Steve’s chin, thumb securely lodged in his mouth. 

“I - I was scared. Cause Natasha knows, now, ‘bout me bein’ little and I thought maybe she would think I couldn’t be a good agent and then I couldn’t, Daddy. I wetted the bed and Natasha was right there and I got her all icky and she hadta wake me up and she was real mad, Daddy. She - she thought I did it on purpose.” Clint admitted this all tearfully, face half pressed into Steve’s chest. Clint sobbed out, “but it wasn’t, Daddy, it was on accident, I promise. I wouldn’t do  _ that. _ ”

“I know, lovebug.” Steve rubbed a soothing hand over Clint’s tense back. “I know it was an accident, bud. I’m sorry Natasha thought that it wasn’t.” They’d have to talk about the ramifications of all this later, about what Clint wanted to say to Natasha, how they wanted to work this out between them. 

“And she went and gotted Phil and he hadta help me clean up and then - then I hadta tell him I needed pull ups, cause I did. I needed them or I was gonna wet again and I didn’t wanna wet again, Daddy, I didn’t.” Steve made a little soothing noise, hid his distressed face in Clint’s still-damp hair. “And,” Clint whined in his throat. “And Daddy, I - I hadta tell Phil I need protection for the day, cause what if I - and Natasha saw. Or, on the mission and lotsa people saw me, Daddy?” Clint shuddered. 

“Oh, baby, that was hard, but you were so brave talking to Phil like that. Daddy’s brave boy.”

Clint shook his head and sniffled pathetically. “I had  _ accidents _ ,” Clint whispered, like it was some great secret. Steve’s heart hurt. Clint had been doing so well. With his self esteem, most importantly, but also in dealing with his continence issues. He hadn’t had daytime incidents (outside of being little) for over a month. It was always a two steps forward one step back pattern with Clint, and that was really, really hard on him. 

“It’s okay,” Steve tried to reassure, “You were really stressed, baby, you know -”

“No,” Clint whimpered. Bucky shifted in his sleep, mumbled something incoherent around his pacifier. “S’not okay, Daddy. Was on a mission and shoulda stayed dry.”

“It is okay,” Steve refuted, strongly but softly. “This is your body now. And that’s okay. Your body is good, just the way it is.” 

Clint sobbed and just shook his head, cried into Steve’s chest. Steve didn’t know what else to say. There was little that would be more stressful for Clint than Natasha witnessing an accident and then having to deal with all of this on a mission. It would take a while to work through and Steve didn’t know how to make it better any quicker. Instead, he just held his boy until Clint cried himself to sleep. 

*

By the time Bucky woke up, Steve thought he had a sketchy plan cobbled together for how to clean up the mess the latest mission had made of Clint’s life. Clint wouldn’t like any of it, but Steve had to trust his instinct here. 

Bucky padded out of the bedroom on quiet feet, sucking on his pacifier and rubbing his eyes. Steve melted a little looking at his boy. Bucky clumsily clambered into Steve’s lap, knee barely missing Steve’s groin. Steve huffed and rearranged him while Bucky snuggled in close, snuffling into Steve’s neck sleepily. 

“Hey baby. How was your nap?” Steve rubbed Bucky’s back. 

“Good,” Bucky responded around his paci. “Clinty is still sleepin’. I came outta find you.”

“That was very brave,” Steve praised. Bucky still had issues waking up when Steve wasn’t there - he did fine when Clint was there and awake to support him. Otherwise, Steve was usually called in when Bucky woke. Bucky made a little happy noise. Steve slipped his hand down Bucky’s back and patted his bum. The diaper was definitely damp and Bucky whined and wiggled uncomfortably. 

“Daddy,” Bucky whined out, pulling away from his hand. 

“Shh,” Steve soothed. “Let’s go get you changed, okay?” Bucky sort of sighed, but put his arm around Steve’s neck so Steve could lift him. Steve stood and carried Bucky quietly into the bedroom. Clint was curled up in the middle of the bed, looking impossibly small and young, thumb tucked into his mouth and blanket fisted in his hand, pressing it up against his cheek. 

Steve stopped at Bucky and Clint’s wardrobe to grab a pair of underwear for Bucky to change into and then proceeded into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind him. He doubted that Clint had any quality sleep on the mission, and he wanted to give him a chance to rest up. Steve wouldn’t let him sleep too much longer though, or Clint wouldn’t sleep that night. Steve set Bucky down in the bathroom. 

“Want help or do you want to do it by yourself?” Steve asked. In answer, Bucky plopped down on the squishy bath mat. His body flopped out of his control and Bucky slammed his head and arm into the counter on the way down. He sat, looking startled, blinking and then burst into tears. 

“Oh, oh Bucky. Baby, shh, it’s okay. That was scary, wasn’t it, but it’s okay.” Quickly Steve checked the side of Bucky’s head for any injury. It would probably turn into a nice lump soon and then go down, but nothing worse than that. Bucky was wailing like he was actively bleeding. Steve hushed him hurriedly, trying to get him quiet before Clint woke. But it was a losing proposition. Just a moment later, Clint started to cry. Steve sighed and hefted up a still whimpering Bucky and hurried into the bedroom again. 

So much for letting Clint get some much needed rest, Steve thought. Clint was sitting up in bed, crying softly around his thumb. They weren’t real tears, so much as the complaint of a child startled out of his nap. Steve sat down next to him and gathered his other boy close. 

“Hey lovebug, it’s alright. You’re okay. We’re all okay.” He sat there and rocked them both back and forth until the tears ceased. Steve gently lay both boys down on the bed and set about removing wet diapers. He slipped Clint into a pull up without asking - the stress of the mission had Steve anticipating a wet couple days. Clint, again, didn't complain about the protection, even with Bucky wearing underwear beside him. Usually, Clint offered up at least a token complaint, though he never really minded wearing his pull ups. 

Clint was still clinging like a limpet as Steve carried them out for a snack. He refused to let go even for a moment. Clint, even at his littlest, had never been this clingy. It worried Steve. 

After snack, he settled himself and his boys in front of the tv for a viewing of  _ Brave _ , which was Clint’s favorite movie. Clint kept himself firmly planted in Steve’s lap, but as the movie progressed he started to relax, grip loosening on his blankie and body softening back into Steve. 

Steve wasn’t surprised when Clint fell asleep halfway through the movie. Steve waited until he was sure his boy was totally out before gently picking him up. 

“I’m going to put your brother in bed, okay?” 

“Okay Daddy,” Bucky said in an exaggerated whisper. Steve’s lips quirked into a helplessly affectionate smile. He carried Clint, now mumbling about spaghetti and meatballs, into the bedroom and gently tucked him up under the covers. He made sure Clint’s blankie was in his hand and dropped a kiss to his boy’s head. Briefly, he wondered what his life would be without this - without Clint and ageplay and the little family that they’d built. It couldn’t possibly, he thought, be as good as what he had now. Clint was sleep flushed, cheeks pink, messy hair, thumb slipped between his lips. Steve ached with gratitude and love. 

When Steve rejoined Bucky on the couch, Bucky clumsily situated himself on Steve's lap. Steve used gentle, guiding hands to make sure Bucky didn’t knee him anywhere too sensitive. 

“Can we still go to the OT room even though Clinty is little and sad and sleepy?” Steve suppressed a smile at Bucky’s phrasing. They tried to get to the OT room at least twice a week in addition to Bucky’s regular appointments, though some of the most helpful tools and toys had slowly found their way back home with them. There was a weighted blanket over the back of the couch, another in the bedroom. A box of different textured fidgets sat on top of a stack of books on SPD. There was a therapy ball in the corner. 

It wasn’t that the diagnoses solved everything, but knowing what was goin’ on and having Isaac’s expertise made a huge difference. Steve hadn’t had to restrain Bucky in two weeks. That was the longest they’d ever gone without. 

“We’ll see, roo. It depends on how Clint's feeling when he wakes up.” 

“Kay, Daddy.” Bucky wiggled on his lap a minute and Steve waited patiently for Bucky to gather his words. “Can I body break now?” 

Steve smiled. “Of course, baby.” He helped Bucky to his feet and then fetched the therapy ball. Steve braced the therapy ball and Bucky’s back so that Bucky could sit down. He gave Bucky plenty of time to get his sense of balance and then moved his foot away from the ball. Bucky’s body immediately started to fall backwards, but he caught himself. He tilted wildly for another few second, before finally stabilizing. He grinned up at Steve as though he’d just run a minute mile. 

Steve smiled with just as much enthusiasm. It was only about half the time that Bucky managed to balance without falling on his first go. Steve laid one hand on Bucky’s ribs and took Bucky’s hand in his other. Bucky braced his feet on the ground and gave a tentative little bounce. A shy little smile crept through his body as he continued to bounce. 

Steve didn't pretend to understand what exactly Bucky loved so much about the bouncing. Isaac assured him that lots of sensory kids felt the way Bucky did. Steve just loved that it made Bucky so happy. He loved everything that made Bucky happy, generally speaking. And well - it was pretty damn cute, Bucky’s whole body bouncing and flopping, his bright, sweet little giggle sounding out. 

Bucky bounced for going on ten minutes, when his thighs started to tremble and his body flopped a little more than was safe. 

“Up on three,” Steve warned. “One, two, three.” On the third bounce, Bucky bounced up to standing, Steve’s hands making sure he ended up on his feet. 

“Good job!” Steve praised. “You wanna be a burrito now?” 

Bucky nodded quickly. Steve chuckled to himself as he grabbed a large blanket from one of their many cupboards. He laid it out on the floor and watched as Bucky got himself settled on the edge. Together they worked to roll Bucky up, nice and snug. Bucky beamed at him and Steve felt a sudden deep gratitude for Bucky, just as he was, which was, in so many ways, exactly what Steve needed. Slowly, Steve rubbed his hands over Bucky’s body, pressing in order to give the deep, calming pressure Isaac said Bucky needed. Bucky responded with a pleased rumble Steve thought sounded like a purr. 

“Feel good roo?” 

“Good Daddy.”

Steve pressed an affectionate kiss to Bucky’s cheek. “I’ll get the sand out, baby, and then maybe we can make some cookies. Whaddya think about that?” 

“Yuhuh. Good.” Bucky tended to get pretty nonverbal when they did sensory activities, and it never failed to amuse Steve. He stood, smiling at his boy and feeling content. 

Clint ended up sleeping another two hours. He woke with sleep-loose limbs, in a calm and snuggly mood. Steve was content to keep him perched in his lap while Bucky and he played dolls. Bucky’s games were getting more and more complicated and nuanced - and more reflective of the trauma he had suffered. Annie said that was good, that it meant that Bucky was processing what happened to him. 

It didn’t make it any less alarming to watch Bucky pretend to lock a doll in a room or watch the doll fall off high surfaces again and again and again. Today, at least, the play stayed innocent, without any lurking remnants of trauma. With Bucky engaged, Steve took a seat on the couch, Clint perched on his knees, facing him. 

“Clinty, I need to talk to you about something serious, okay?” Steve didn’t really want to do this now, but the longer he let the situation fester the worse off Clint, Phil, and Natasha would be. It was like ripping off a bandage, Steve told himself, best just to get it over with. Clint frowned and ducked his chin to his chest. 

“Do we gotta?” Clint asked softly. Steve ached a little. 

“Yeah, baby, we do. I’m sorry.”

“S’okay Daddy.” Clint scooched a little closer, settling into Steve’s chest. Steve cradled him close, sighing softly. 

“So I know you had a really hard mission, lovebug, and that you must be feeling real overwhelmed and scared. I think that it’s really important that we talk to Natasha and Phil, that we try to be honest as we can.”

“No!” Clint protested, rearing back and staring at Steve with a horrified expression on his face. Steve ran a soothing hand down Clint’s side. “Daddy, please, Tasha will think I’m so bad and yucky and I can’t - she’ll hate me.”

“I don’t think she will, bud, I think that’ll she will understand if we explain it to her right. She wouldn’t blame you for something you can’t control.”

“She thought I did it on purpose!” Clint cried. Steve glanced down at Bucky - he was watching them warily but seemed remarkably calm (though he had pulled his weighted blanket down on top of himself). 

“She did,” Steve acknowledged, “But that’s because she doesn’t know any better. She doesn’t know that it’s because of Loki, that it’s not something you can help. If we tell her, I think she’ll understand.”

“Daddy, I dun’ wanna.” Clint sobbed, collapsing back into Steve. “Please, I dun’ wanna.”

Steve held back his own tears. “I know, baby. I know you don’t. But I think it’s really important, so I’m going to have to insist unless you need to use your safeword.” Clint looked like he was actually thinking about it for a moment, and Steve’s heart pounded in his chest, worried that he was pressing too hard, asking for too much from his boy, that Clint’s trust in him would broken.

A long, tense moment passed. 

“Okay Daddy,” Clint whispered. “Okay.”

“Oh thank you, Clinty. Thank you,” Steve whispered, holding him close and rocking side to side gently. “You’re such a brave boy and I’m so lucky to be your daddy, just so, so lucky.” They snuggled together for several minutes, until Clint’s breath evened a little. 

“Can we - I. Can we just do’it, Daddy? No waiting?” Clint was nearly incomprehensible around his thumb, but Steve had a lot of practice decoding speech. 

“I think that would be smart, baby. Should we do it tonight? At dinner?”

“Uhm, yeah. But - but I wanna be big Daddy and m’gonna need help gettin’ big.”

“You know you don’t  _ need  _ to be big,” Steve said, concerned that Clint was feeling ashamed of his little side again - a feeling that Steve had worked hard to get Clint to let go of. 

“I know, Daddy, but - but s’important, right? I wanna be big.” Clint looked up at him seriously and Steve gave him a little smile. 

“Alright, bud. Maybe a shower? And then you can help me with dinner.” 

Clint nodded firmly and started to clamber off Steve’s lap. Once he was off, Steve crouched by Bucky. “Roo, I’m gonna get your brother set up with the shower, alright, and then we can make a plan to get you ready for guests.”

“Kay, Daddy.” Bucky said, reaching up for a hug, which Steve happily allowed, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s forehead. 

The rest of the afternoon passed too quickly. JARVIS sent out their invitations while Clint showered. Bucky and Steve decided that Bucky would watch Angelina Ballerina while Clint and Steve talked with Natasha and Phil, and then join them for dinner. 

Clint was nervous and fidgety, but definitely big, while they prepared dinner - one of Clint’s favorites, cheesy rice and chicken. Bucky sat at the kitchen table and colored while they cooked until JARVIS let them know that Phil and Natasha were on their way. With that news, Steve settled Bucky on the couch under his weighted blanket, with his dolls in hand and a pacifier in his mouth and set  _ Angelina Ballerina _ to run uninterrupted until he or JARVIS stopped it. 

“You let me know if you need anything, baby,” Steve said as he tucked Bucky’s blanket around him. “We’ll just be in the kitchen and you can interrupt us anytime, okay?”

“Yuhuh Daddy.”

Clint, setting the table, was visibly a nervous wreck. His body was folded in tight and his breathing was shallow. Steve drew him into a tight hug. “It’s gonna be okay, Clint. Natasha and Phil love you and I’m sure that they’ll both understand. And even if they don’t or can’t, that doesn’t mean that anything is wrong with you, d’you understand?”

Clint just shrugged a little, breath hitching ominously. Steve pulled back so that he could look Clint in the eye. “There is nothing wrong with you,” he said firmly. “You are perfect just as you are and anyone who tells you otherwise isn’t worth your time, alright? I love you.”

“Love you too, Steve,” Clint murmured, just as JARVIS announced Phil and Natasha’s arrival. 

“I’m going to go let them in, why don’t you use the bathroom one more time, okay?” Clint blushed but nodded. Steve hadn’t fussed him about the bathroom at all so far, which meant there had been a couple accidents since Clint had gotten home. Of course, he had also slept most of the afternoon, so it wasn’t like he would have been dry on a normal day. But Clint’s stress was high which meant that there was a high chance of accidents until he settled down again. Steve wasn’t taking any chances while Phil and Natasha were there - this was going to be hard enough as it was. 

Natasha and Phil stood outside the door, an awkward amount of space between them and tension brewing.  _ Great, _ Steve thought. The last thing he needed was more strained relationships. 

But he pasted a genial smile on his face and said, “C’mon in.” He led the pair through to the kitchen and asked them to sit down just as Clint slipped in. He blushed, body going taught and hands falling to the edge of his t-shirt. Steve waved him over, patting the seat next to him. Clint took the seat hesitantly, keeping his eyes fixed downward, embarrassment already tinting his cheeks pink. 

“Natasha, Phil. I think avoiding the reason we’re here would just make us all more uncomfortable, so let’s just jump right in.” Steve turned to face Natasha, who looked characteristically blank, except for the worry she showed in the fold of her eyebrows. “I heard that Clint wet the bed when you were sharing for your mission cover.” 

Natasha gave a short nod. Clint whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut, face going a shade darker.  Steve took a moment, tried to form his words just right. “After Clint was controlled by Loki, he was left with some permanent remnants of that trauma. One of those is trouble with continence. During times of stress - such as missions - Clint is prone to accidents.” 

Clint drew his knees into his chest and hid his face in his legs. 

“Oh.” Natasha said softly. And then, “I - I am sorry that I misunderstood Clint, and that I blamed you. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions.” Natasha looked to be facing an internal battle, and a moment later she added, “I was worried about our mission. Knowing about your ageplay made me doubt you. It shouldn't have. I  _ am  _ sorry.” 

Steve was impressed. Apparently, in the last couple weeks of stony faced tolerance, Natasha had already started to move towards actual acceptance. 

“S’okay, Clint mumbled into his knees. “M’sorry - I - you know.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for - you couldn’t help it.” Natasha sounded honest. She sounded compassionate. And Steve couldn’t help but fill with hope that Clint and Natasha would finally be able to repair their relationship. 

Clint peeked gray eyes up over his legs. The crinkles at their corners suggested a smile. 

“I’m glad we can build some understanding around this issue,” Steve said honestly. “I also want us to talk about how we can all give Clint better support for this. For a long time, Clint and I have handled everything on our own. But as became clear on this mission, they’re gonna be times where I’m just not available. You guys love Clint, and there's no reason you can’t help him carry this.” 

Phil nodded emphatically. “I want to help Clint - I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide this from me.” 

Clint had moved so that his chin was propped up on his knees. He blushed and a soft smile graced his face. “Thanks, Phil.” 

“How can we help?” Natasha asked, matter of fact, like her help and acceptance was as obvious as the sky or the ground. Steve’s heart swelled with affection. 

“Well, it’s up to Clint how much he wants to involve you, but we did agree that we were going to be honest and share as much as he feels comfortable with. Is that still true Clint?”

Clint hesitated, glancing between Phil and Natasha and flushing a bright red. Finally he nodded. Steve put a soothing hand on his shoulder, squeezed in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. 

“Alright then. So - Phil knows most of this, but we’ll fill you in, Natasha. For some reason we don’t completely understand, Clint has more accidents when he’s feeling little. However, he does have the occasional accident when he’s big. They’re caused by stress, as I said before, and usually Clint’s pretty good at predicting when it might be an issue.” Clint was back to hiding in his legs again, which Steve couldn’t exactly blame him for. This wasn’t easy stuff to talk about or share. “Currently, he wears protection at night when he thinks he might wet the bed, and sleeps in the guest room. While accidents during the day when he’s big are much rarer, they do happen. If Clint’s in a place where he needs some help or privacy, JARVIS will let me know and I’ll come get him. That might be a place where you both could help. With Bucky here, it’s harder for me to be available when Clint needs me. It would be good if JARVIS could call either of you to help Clint get to a private bathroom where he can clean up.”

“That’s certainly something I can do,” Phil said softly. Natasha nodded her agreement. Clint’s shoulders tightened and Steve reminded himself that at this point, it was all hypothetical. He’d let Clint change his mind about what he wanted help with at any time. 

“How does that sound, Clint?”

“Okay,” Clint whispered, though he didn’t sound very sure at all. Steve didn’t try to confirm, though. They could talk about it later, when they had some privacy and Clint had some distance from the decision.

“What about at night?” Phil asked softly. “Is there anything else I can do to support you on difficult nights?” Steve smiled at Phil, grateful that he had Phil as a partner in taking care of Clint. Phil was detail oriented and attentive, often picked up small changes in Clint’s behavior before Steve did. 

Clint peeked up again, eyebrows folded into a thoughtful crease. “Uhm. Uh - would it be alright if I - if I, stayed with you, even on nights when I might - if I wear, uh, y’know, so you don’t get.”

Phil smiled, reaching over to Clint and putting a hand on his knee. “Of course you can, Clint.”

The tension in Clint’s shoulders eased, and a smile flitted around the edges of his lips. 

“Thanks,” he whispered, voice shy. Steve smiled around at the table. This was going a lot better than he had expected. 

“Clint, is it alright if I talk about what it’s like when you’re little?” Clint nodded, though the red returned to his cheeks. “When Clint is a little, he wears protection when he is awake as well as when he’s asleep. Generally, that won’t be something you need to think or worry about, as I’m usually with Clint when he’s little. But it’s good for you to know, just in case there’s an emergency. Do you guys have any questions or concerns? About this, or anything else, really.”

Natasha and Phil took a moment to think. 

“For missions -” Phil said slowly. “I think it would be best if we brought supplies. Just in case something like this happens again. It was surprisingly difficult to find incontinence products in Eastern Europe.” 

Clint made an aborted little whine, likely protesting many parts of that statement. 

“I think that’s probably a good plan. Clint and I will talk about it and get back to you,” Steve replied. It was something that he’d thought about before, actually, but wet beds on a missions were actually surprisingly rare - perhaps because Clint didn’t sleep as deeply. But whatever the reason, it wasn’t a common enough issue that Steve thought it was necessary for Clint to bring protection. But perhaps even knowing he had the option would help Clint feel calmer. It was worth a try.

“Clint,” Natasha said, voice soft, “I want us to be better.”

“Me too,” Clint added immediately. “I - m’just scared Tasha.”

Natasha sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, looking unsure what to say to that. 

“What are you scared of, bud?” Steve asked, trying to keep the discussion going.

“I - I dunno how ta’ explain. I guess. M’not who I was before, y’know. I just -” Clint shrugged, looking terribly insecure. 

“I’ve remade myself a hundred times since we met and you never gave up on me.” Natasha says, voice thick and strong. “I’d never give up on you either.”

Clint swallowed, throat working. He nodded, whispered, “I love you, Tasha.”

“I love you too.”

They didn’t look at each other, but the feelings were heartfelt. They were going to be okay. 

“I’m going to get Bucky and we can have dinner,” Steve said, as the heavy moment passed. “Clint, are you going to be little or big?”

“Little,” Clint said immediately, unfolding from the chair, already looking a little younger around his eyes. “M’gonna come get Bucky with you.” It was an excuse for Clint to have a minute of privacy to get little, but Steve wasn’t going to call him out on it. He waited til they were out of sight of the kitchen and then lifted an unresisting Clint into his arms, knowing that picking his boy up was the fastest way to get him in his headspace. 

“I think that went really well,” Steve murmured. “What d’you think, lovebug?”

“Embarrassin’” Clint mumbled as he slipped his thumb into his mouth. “But Tasha and Phil were nice. They weren’t mean or nothin’.”

“They love you a lot, baby. They just want to help take care of you, just like I do. They want you to be happy and healthy and safe.” Clint nodded into his chest. Steve carried him over to the couch. Bucky looked up and lifted his arm expectantly. Bucky was getting rather entitled about being carried. Steve loved it. “You boys ready for dinner?”

“Yuhuh,” Bucky said around his pacifier. “Hungry, Daddy.”

“Good! Let’s get my lil’ monsters fed!” Steve rearranged his boys on his hips, settling them more securely before heading for the kitchen. 

“We’re not monsters, Daddy!” Clint protested. “We’re boys!”

“Are you sure?” Steve asked playfully. 

“Yuhuh!” Bucky chirped. 

Clint added, “We’re your little boys!”

“Oh, would you look at that, you  _ are  _ boys! You must have been so hungry you just looked like monsters for a minute!” They walked into the kitchen. Phil and Natasha looked on with bemused expressions as Steve continued the conversation and settled his boys into their usual seats. They’d swapped out Bucky’s chairs for ones with arms so that he couldn’t slip out on days when his coordination was particularly bad. Clint had insisted on decorating it with stickers. The sight of it always made Steve smile. 

Steve turned away from the table to collect the food. When he turned back around, Clint was chattering at a hundred miles an hour to Natasha about the latest game of pirates vs. astronauts. Bucky was shyly pointing out his favorite stickers to Phil, who was watching attentively. 

Yeah, they were gonna be okay. 

*

Clint had to stay little the rest of the week. His head just felt too fuzzy and overwhelmed, and well - it was really, extra hard to be dry. When he was with Bucky and Daddy that wasn’t so bad, cause they never got mad or nothin’ and Daddy always helped him clean up. But even after talkin’ to Phil and Tasha, Clint didn’t feel ready to handle all that. It felt too big, so he just stayed little. 

It wasn’t that he wanted to stay little forever, like he’d told Daddy right when he got home, it was just that his insides felt all squirmy and weird and it felt like maybe everything was gonna change again. Before, he’d been afraid of that. But now he didn’t think that things were gonna be bad, he just wasn’t really ready to figure things out again. It felt like he was always workin’ to figure things out and sometimes he just got tired. That’s why he had a Daddy though, so it was prob’ly gonna be okay. 

Friday after nap, he and Bucky were playin’ trains and UFOs in the living room when JARVIS said, “Agent Romanoff is at the door, Captain Rogers.”

Daddy looked just as surprised as Clint felt, but he stood up. Clint’s hand gripped his UFO a little tighter and his thumb went up to his mouth without him even askin’ it too. What if Natasha had changed her mind? What if she really did think Clint was gross and icky and didn’t wanna be his friend no more. She had said she didn’t care, that she still loved him, but - but - people changed their minds sometimes. 

He kinda hadta potty, all of a sudden. He squirmed around to look for Daddy. Bucky was pushin’ up against the couch, reaching for his weighted blanket, which meant he was feelin’ a little nervous, which made Clint feel even more nervous. 

Daddy appeared from the hall with Natasha right behind him. Clint wanted to climb under Bucky’s blanket and never come out, even though it was too heavy for him and made him feel like he couldn’t breathe. 

But Natasha was smiling. That made everything feel a lot less scary. 

“Natasha came to play with us!” Daddy said in his cheeriest voice. Clint perked up a little bit. He loved having new people to play with. Bucky and Daddy were very good at games, but Bucky needed a lot of breaks and liked to play quietly. When Clint got to play with other people, sometimes they got to play louder, more exciting games. 

“Come play UFOs with me!” Clint said. “Daddy and Bucky can be the trains.”

Natasha came over and crouched down next to him, still smiling. “Alright, but you’ll have to teach me.”

Clint bounced on his knees, “Okay! These are our UFOs - Bucky and I made ‘em out of legos. We gotta fly them around and try to steal trains or railroads! But we can only do it if Bucky and Daddy aren’t lookin’, so we gotta be extra sneaky!”

“I’m pretty good at being sneaky.” Natasha said with a smile. That was true - Natasha was the sneakiest ever and it turned out that she was really, really good at playin’ UFOs. Clint was havin’ so much fun that he forgot that he needed to potty until it was a ‘mergency. There wasn’t any time to be sneaky to try and tell Daddy privately. But Tasha was there and he didn’t want her to hear, but he didn’t wanna have a’accident either and he needed to go  _ now _ and he needed Daddy’s help and - 

“Daddy!” Clint yelped, scrambling to his feet. “I gotta potty!”  

Daddy’s eyes went big and wide and he got up really fast and rushed over to Clint, picking him up and hurrying him to the bathroom. Clint squirmed in Daddy’s arms, tryin’ not to notice that Natasha was lookin’ at him. 

Daddy helped him pull down his pants and pull up once they were in the bathroom, but his pee was already leakin’ out of him and everythin’ was getting wet, even Clint’s face cause he was crying.

“Shh,” Daddy soothed, as he sat Clint down to finish on the potty. He took away Clint’s pull up and pants and rubbed Clint’s leg. “Shh, lovebug, it’s okay. Just a little accident. You’re alright.”

“Natasha,” Clint whimpered. She had  _ seen _ him acting like such a baby, squirmin’ around and needing his Daddy’s help. Natasha never needed help, not ever, especially not for somethin’ like gettin’ to the potty on time. 

“Natasha doesn’t mind,” Daddy said firmly. “And she won’t be upset or angry.” 

Clint hiccoughed. His tears were drying up, but he still felt nervous and upset. 

“Daddy?” That was Bucky’s voice, calling from right outside the bathroom door. He sounded a little sad. Daddy peeked his head out to check on him and a minute later, Daddy picked him up right off the potty and carried him into the bedroom. Bucky was in there, carefully climbin’ onto the bed. Daddy lay him down next to his brother. It wasn’t until Daddy came back from the end of the bed with two pull ups that Clint figured out that Bucky must of hadda accident too, and needed help changin’. 

That made him feel a little better. It was always good to remember that he wasn’t the only one who had accidents and wanted help takin’ care of them. It was a little different with Bucky, cause he had ‘praxia and SPD and he actually needed help from Daddy cause his body couldn’t do it by himself. Clint could do it, if he needed too. It was just better when Daddy took care of it. 

It was nice just to lie by his brother while Daddy cleaned them up. It felt familiar and safe and it reminded Clint that he had a family that loved him a whole lot, even though he was little and had accidents and everythin’. He was really lucky to have his Daddy and his Bucky. 

He was feelin’ lots better by the time Daddy slid him into clean pants and picked him up. When they got to the living room, Natasha had fixed all the railroads and UFOs and was waitin’ for another game. She didn’t act any different than before. She didn’t say nothin’ about Clint wearing different pants or anything. 

That felt real good. It felt even better when she let him sit right next to her and petted his back like Daddy did sometime and whispered a plan for beatin’ Daddy and Bucky into his ear. Tasha was a really good friend. Clint felt real lucky that she was his friend. 

*

Phil waited anxiously for Clint to arrive home. He’d been gone a whole week, after the disaster that had been their last mission. Phil understood (better now than he had before) why Clint wanted to stay with Steve until he was settled, but that didn’t mean he didn’t miss him. He did. A lot. So when their door opened, Phil didn’t pretend to be anything but elated to see Clint. He immediately pulled him into a hug, pressing a kiss to that place right behind Clint’s ear that always made him whimper, just a little. 

Phil started to kiss down Clint’s neck. 

“Wait, wait,” Clint protested softly, pulling back. There was a flush on his cheeks and Phil couldn’t tell whether it was from pleasure or embarrassment. “I just - uhm. I wanted to tell you, before we - just I wanted to make sure it was okay, because I -”

“Clint? Whatever it is, we can handle it,” Phil said gently. He stood back a little, though he kept his hands on Clint’s hips, enjoying the solid physicality of having him home. 

Clint blushed harder and looked to the side, but he continued to speak. “I’m still, uhm, having more issues than normal. Cause of the stress. But I wanted to come home, so. But, uh, if you’d rather I go back to Steve’s.” 

Phil moved one of his hands to Clint’s cheek, gently coaxed his partner to look at him. Phil smiled. “We can handle it. I want you here.”

Clint grinned shyly and leaned in for a kiss. 

_ fin.  _

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks for reading, kudoing, and commenting! A happy holiday season to all of you!


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